


if someone asks, this is where I’ll be

by ktlsyrtis



Category: Holby City
Genre: Cottage Smut, Early Days, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 13:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20276632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/pseuds/ktlsyrtis
Summary: Serena's surprised to learn that Bernie owns a cottage. When Bernie whisks her away for a weekend alone, Serena finds she has a few more surprises in store





	if someone asks, this is where I’ll be

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be honest - finding out that Bernie owns a cottage is the only good thing to come out of the current canon nonsense, and we all know what she used it for 😏
> 
> Huge thanks as always to Bonnie for wrangling my words into some kind of sense, and to Beth for poking at me to keep writing and telling me it's not terrible <333

Serena closes the report with a sigh, giving up after reading the same sentence five times without absorbing a single word.

It’s hardly the first time. Today alone, Morven tried, and failed, to get her attention three times. And she barely remembers her morning meeting with Hanssen. 

She’s not even sure she ordered the right coffee; her mind’s been wandering for weeks now.

Three weeks, two days, and a handful of hours to be exact. Since Bernie Wolfe came back from Kiev with bright blonde hair and a terrible bottle of wine. Since they kissed in their office and didn’t come up for air until security knocked on the door. Since they fell into bed and discovered that their sexual chemistry was even more undeniable than they ever imagined.

Which is part of the problem. It was bad enough when her fantasies about Bernie were conjecture, little more than wild imaginings. Now that she _knows_ just how incredible sex with Bernie is, she finds she can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s never been like this with a lover before. 

She’s had incredible sex, to be sure. A woman does have to have standards, after all. But it’s never consumed her like this. Serena feels like an addict, spends an inordinate amount of time each day thinking about when she’ll get to touch Bernie next. Given the opportunity, she would gladly lock herself away with Bernie and never leave bed again.

It doesn’t help that their lives aren’t exactly conducive to tearing each others clothes off all hours of the day and night. They’ve been together as often as they can manage, but not nearly as much as they’d like. No matter how many nights they spend wrapped up in each other, Serena can’t seem to get enough.

That was how Bernie ended up in Serena’s bed last night. She’d come over just for dinner, at Jason’s request, and they’d agreed in advance that she’d be going back to her flat at the end of the evening. Bernie was on early and Serena needed to prepare for her meeting with Hanssen, and they both knew that they’d never get any sleep if they shared a bed.

When push came to shove, Serena couldn’t let her go. A kiss goodnight at the front door led to another, and then another. Without thinking she pinned Bernie back against the wall, pressing a thigh between her legs. She looked so damn beautiful, all flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. It would’ve broken the resolve of a stronger woman than Serena Campbell.

Turns out she’d been right. They didn’t get much sleep at all.

Serena drags a hand down her face, trying to clear away the ghost of Bernie’s touch, the way she muffled her moans against Serena’s skin to keep from waking Jason. She groans at the realization she can still smell Bernie’s scent on her fingers, the sense memory of Bernie clenching around them sending a tendril of heat through her.

Just then, the object of her inappropriate musings appears across the ward. _It should be illegal to look that good in scrubs_, Serena’s thinks, eyes lingering on those impossibly long legs, the subtle curve of waist and hip and breast, the knowledge of what’s underneath the thin cotton making her stomach clench.

As if she can feel Serena’s gaze, Bernie turns with a raised brow and a smirk that only widens when their eyes meet. Serena tears herself away, feels heat climbing up her chest as she fumbles with the paperwork on her desk, forces herself to keep her eyes down at the sound of soft footsteps, the click of the office door. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a flash of dark blue, Bernie’s hip settling on the edge of her desk, close enough that Serena imagines she can feel the warmth radiating off of her.

“Have I ever told you about my cottage?”

Serena’s head snaps up, blinking at the non sequitur. Bernie is sitting closer than she realized, the heat in her dark eyes makes Serena’s breath catch.

“Ah, cottage?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Bernie shifts a bit; if Serena were to stretch out her pinkie it would just brush against her hip. “It’s the only thing I kept in the divorce. Marcus never much liked the place so he didn’t exactly argue.”

Serena tries to pay attention. She really does. But she gets a little distracted by the shadowed dip of Bernie’s collarbone, the memory of the sound Bernie makes when she nips just there.

“I was thinking, why don’t we go for the weekend.” 

“What? Go where?” 

The smug grin on Bernie’s face says that her inattention has not gone unnoticed.

“The cottage,” she repeats, nonplussed. “It’s not a terribly far drive. We could take a weekend.”

Warmth blossoms in Serena’s chest at the thought of Bernie making plans for them, of having time together uninterrupted by red phones and nephew’s schedules. She deflates a bit with a sigh.

“That sounds lovely, Bernie. Truly,” Serena says, regret lacing her words. “I just don’t know how we’d manage it. Between AAU and Jason, I--” 

Bernie cuts her off with a raised hand. “As it happens, I called in a few favors with Ric, and Alan agreed to take Jason to that games convention he’s been talking about. So it looks like we both have some time available.”

A disbelieving grin breaks across Serena’s face. “When?”

“If we leave in the morning, we can be there by lunch.” Bernie leans down, and it takes everything in Serena not to meet her halfway. “Three days, two nights. Just the two of us. No distractions, no interruptions.”

The husk of her voice thrums along Serena’s spine, settles between her thighs. She swallows, throat suddenly dry.

“That, ah, that sounds wonderful.”

“I’ll come round first thing in the morning to pick you up, then.” Bernie closes the last inches between them, her breath warm against the shell of Serena’s ear. “And pack light. You won’t need much in the way of clothes.” 

Her lips just brush Serena’s cheek, and with a cheeky wink she’s gone. Leaving a motionless Serena - wet, aching, and wondering just what in the hell she’s gotten herself into.

…

Serena lifts her bag into the boot, folds herself into the passenger seat of Bernie’s car. Normally she’d grumble a bit about the lack of room and impracticality, but being greeted with a cup of steaming hot coffee and a lingering kiss is an excellent distraction.

Bernie’s a bit cagey about where this cottage actually is, just reassures Serena that it’s only a few hours drive. Thankfully traffic is light as they pull onto the M4, and Serena lets out a slow breath it feels like she’s been holding for years. Relaxing isn’t normally her strong suit, but the trust she has in Bernie makes it surprisingly easy. She takes in the scenery as they speed down the motorway, letting herself drift with the soft music from the radio, the warmth of Bernie’s hand resting on her thigh.

She must nod off for a bit; when she opens her eyes they’re in the rugged Welsh countryside. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bernie glance her way, and she grins sheepishly.

“Sorry to fall asleep on you.” 

Bernie’s hand squeezes briefly, chafing a bit against Serena’s leg. “Don’t be. I’m glad you’re getting some rest.” Her eyebrows waggle suggestively. “You’re going to need it.” Serena laughs, tangling her fingers with Bernie’s.

“Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I think my chances are pretty good.” 

Serena just hums, lifts Bernie’s hand to her lips, brushing them against her knuckles. “I think they are, too.”

An hour or so later, they pull to a stop beside a low stone wall, and Serena finally gets a look at the cottage. Her first thought is that it’s utterly charming. With a rough fieldstone exterior, slate roof, and vines climbing the side of the chimney, it looks like something off a Christmas card.

“Go on in, have a look around,” Bernie says as she climbs out of the car, tossing Serena the key and walking around to gather their luggage from the boot.

The interior is as quaint as the exterior, all glowing warm woodwork and soft furniture. A wood stove is tucked in one corner of the main room, the low ceiling accented by rough hewn beams. The back wall is almost entirely windows, with french doors overlooking what appears to be a garden, a profusion of plants gone dormant for the winter. With a small kitchen and a curved staircase leading up to what Serena assumes must be the bedroom, it’s everything she could have possibly hoped for.

She turns as the door closes behind her. Bernie is looking at her a little cautiously, hands full of their bags and a cool box at her feet.

“Well?” Serena can hear the hesitance in her voice, can’t hold back a smile.

“Bernie, it’s lovely!” She crosses the room, leans in to kiss Bernie softly on the cheek, just catching the corner of her mouth. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“You’re welcome,” Bernie says, cheeks flushed. “Come on, I’ll show you the loft.”

Serena follows Bernie to the staircase, rolling her eyes a bit when she refuses to let Serena help with the bags. The bedroom loft is surprisingly airy, done all in white. Light spills in through the window over the enticingly comfortable looking bed.

“Since it’s not too cold yet, I thought we could walk to the pub down the way for lunch,” Bernie suggests as she pulls things from her bag to put in the bedside table. She doesn’t notice Serena stalking toward her. “Then after we can…” Bernie trails off as she looks up to find Serena standing much closer than anticipated. 

Mouth curled up in a wicked grin, Serena puts a hand on Bernie’s sternum and gives a little shove. Bernie’s eyes widen as she over balances, plopping down on the bed with an _oof_. Serena crawls over her, pushing her down the rest of the way, cutting off anything she might say by kissing her as slow and filthy as she knows how, until she feels Bernie go pliant beneath her. 

By the time she pulls back, they’re both out of breath, Bernie’s pupils blown wide. 

“You brought me here for a dirty weekend, didn’t you?” Serena husks, sliding a hand beneath Bernie’s shirt, up along her ribs. “I think we best get started.”

Bernie surges upward, twists her hips to roll Serena beneath her, leaves her breathless and laughing as they tussle across the bed. Hands fumble with buttons, tug at fabric, frantic to get rid of any barrier between them. Through it all they don’t stop kissing, sloppy and uncoordinated, teeth knocking as they chuckle and gasp. 

Skin slides against skin and Serena manages to catch Bernie’s wrists, pins them above Bernie’s head as she slips her free hand into her pants. 

They both groan at the wetness she finds. 

She dips her head, swirls her tongue around a pebbled nipple as her fingers dip lower, drawing up wetness and circling Bernie’s clit in the same motion. Bernie’s soft gasps and whimpers make Serena’s brain buzz. 

She hooks a leg across Bernie’s as she bucks up into Serena’s hand. 

Fingers moving faster, Serena kisses and nips a path across Bernie’s chest, drags her lips along the straining tendon in her neck, swallows her increasingly desperate moans. They’re not even kissing, not really, and Serena can’t help grinning as Bernie pants against her mouth, curses when she crooks her fingers just right. She would do this all day, every day, if she could; spend the rest of her life making Bernie feel this good. 

Bernie arches and cries out beneath her and Serena’s not sure which of them enjoys it more, a white hot stab of pleasure burning through her as she watches Bernie fall apart.

Bernie collapses back against the bed, eyes tightly shut, chest heaving, Serena still half draped over her, feeling every residual tremor against her own body. She nuzzles into the mess of blonde hair, breathes deep the scent of shampoo, the sweat dampening her hairline. In moments like these, her heart feels full to bursting, overwhelmed with gratitude to have found this with her best friend. Having Bernie in her arms feels like the most amazing luck, something wonderful that makes all of the struggles in her life worthwhile.

A sharp nip to her collarbone pulls Serena from her musings, her hissed inhale fading to a moan as Bernie’s tongue soothes away the sting. Long fingers roll her nipples, tugging with perfect pressure until her back arches, and she feels Bernie chuckle into the crook of her neck.

She goes willingly when Bernie rolls them, making space for herself in the cradle of Serena’s hips; Serena hooks a leg around Bernie’s thigh to pull her that much closer, foot stroking against the curve of her calf. Strands of hair tickle at her ribs as Bernie slides down the bed, making her squirm. A quick detour and a new mark joins the constellation of bruises, faded to various degrees, that are scattered along Serena’s inner thighs. 

Their eyes catch for a moment. Serena doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the sight of Bernie, perched between her thighs, looking up at her like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

And then, with a grin, Bernie lowers her head. Serena’s thoughts scatter, the only thing she can focus on is the feel of Bernie’s mouth against her. 

Serena’s already most of the way there - making Bernie come is the most potent aphrodisiac she’s ever known - but Bernie seems determined to make her wait. She explores with languid, swirling strokes of her tongue, little murmurs of pleasure Serena can feel vibrate right through her. 

Pleasure coils inside her, builds, but remains just out of reach. Her hips jerk helplessly, angling to try and get Bernie’s mouth where she so desperately needs it. A pained whimper escapes her when instead Bernie pulls away, leaving her aching.

“_Please_,” Serena gasps, voice thick, twitching at the warmth of Bernie’s breath coursing over her.

Bernie tugs one of Serena’s legs over her shoulder, hand splayed across her lower abdomen, holding her firmly in place, and finally, _finally_, takes pity on her. 

Serena cries out as Bernie’s lips engulf her clit, tongue flicking against it, sending lighting bolts of pleasure along every nerve ending. Her hand tangles in Bernie’s hair, a mooring against the tidal wave of sensation being coaxed out of her. 

Heat blossoms from her core and Serena arches off the bed, practically curls in on herself as she shudders, anchored only by Bernie’s strong hands and relentless mouth. 

She falls back as the last waves tear through her, a hand flung over her eyes, gasping. Bernie’s tongue flutters against her a few times, making her hips jump. 

“Have I told you.” Serena pauses to swallow, to dampen her dry throat. “That you are _exceptionally _good at that?”

Bernie chuckles. Serena doesn’t have to open her eyes to picture the smug look on her face.

“You may have mentioned it, once or twice.”

Bernie shifts a bit, rests her cheek just above Serena’s hip, with the only sound in the cottage Serena’s still unsteady breathing.

Serena’s fingers stroke aimlessly against Bernie’s scalp till a rumble breaks the silence. She flushes when she realizes it’s her stomach growling and Bernie barks out a laugh.

“Message received.” She drops a kiss on the soft swell of Serena’s stomach and pushes herself upright. “Keep the bed warm and I’ll get us something to eat.”

...

Serena hums in satisfaction, tongue flicking out to swipe a crumb from her fingertip. She plucks the glass of wine they’ve been sharing from Bernie’s hand, takes a long sip. Bits of cheese and bread, a stray grape or two, litter the platter on the nightstand: the only remnants of their meal.

Sat with her back against the headboard, she shifts a bit, settles Bernie even closer where she sits between Serena’s legs, back flush against her front. Serena thinks she could stay like this forever; wrapped around Bernie in the middle of nowhere, blissfully removed from any distractions or interruptions. A tendril of regret creeps through her. It’s hard not to wish they’d met sooner, that they led the kind of lives that would let them have endless days like this. She wouldn’t truly give up anything about her life, but the thought makes her a little wistful. 

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Nothing bad, I promise,” Serena says, pressing a kiss to Bernie’s temple. “Just wishing we could stay here all the time.”

Bernie cranes her head back against Serena’s shoulder to look up at her with a soft smile. “At the cottage or in bed?”

“Why can’t it be both?” Serena quips, squeezing Bernie a little tighter, making her bark out a laugh. 

“Right. I’ll just call Hanssen then, shall I?” Bernie asks, voice dripping with feigned innocence, even as she turns to start trailing kisses along the underside of Serena’s jaw. “Tell him I’m very sorry, but he’ll have to restaff AAU because my co-lead won’t let me out of her bed.”

Serena hums in agreement, tilting her head to give Bernie better access. “Technically we’re in _your_ bed, but the logic holds.”

“You might get bored.” Bernie moves lower, tongue lapping at a fluttering pulse point. “Just us and all this peace and quiet.”

“I’m sure we could find ways to entertain ourselves.” Serena gasps as the tender exploration become more focused, nipples pebbling against Bernie’s back. 

“Speaking of,” Bernie murmurs into Serena’s collarbone, “There was something I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Serena forces herself to focus on Bernie’s words, distracted by the blunt fingernails tracing aimless patterns on her thighs, making her squirm. “And what — _ah_, right there — what might that be?”

“Well, I made some purchases based on the, um, research you mentioned doing.”

Heat climbs the back of Serena’s neck, her stomach flopping. 

While Bernie was in Kiev, Serena spent countless hours grappling with her emotions, the realization of this new facet of her sexuality. The only thing she knew with any certainty was that she wanted Bernie, even if she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

Curiosity led her to _Orange is the New Black_, which was entertaining if not entirely informative. The internet was the logical next step, which opened a stunning vista of possibility that Serena had never considered. Some of what she found seemed unrealistic for anyone who wasn’t a twenty-something gymnast. Some sites had her quickly hitting the back button and clearing her web history, lest Jason decide to borrow her laptop. 

What stayed with her most were the things that had her sliding a hand inside her sodden knickers, mind reeling with images of Bernie, of_ them_, until she shuddered around her own fingers in the darkness of her room.

She’d never really planned on telling Bernie about her foray into the study of sex between women, it just slipped out on accident during one of their evenings at Bernie’s flat. Serena tried to play it off as nothing, but Bernie had looked at her with those dark, burning eyes, pinned her to the bed and proceeded to tease the information out of her with what had to be a record setting number of orgasms. 

By the end of the night, limp and exhausted, Serena had told her every fleeting thought and fantasy, everything she imagined trying.

“Oh?” Her attempt at nonchalance is damaged somewhat by the way her voice cracks on the syllable.

Bernie turns more fully, squints up at her with that small smile that warms Serena right to her toes. “There’s no pressure,” she says, thumb rubbing soothing circles on Serena’s knee. “We certainly don’t have to-” 

Serena’s eyes go wide. “No!” She flushes at her outburst. “No, I would like to try… I mean, I think I’d try just about anything with you.” 

Bernie’s smile widens, fingers moving a bit higher.

Serena brushes Bernie’s unruly fringe back from her face, threading her fingers into the soft hair behind her ear. “But I-, I don’t want you to think there’s anything that I’m missing. That you’re not enough for me.” 

Bernie’s eyes soften, and she turns to press a kiss to Serena’s palm. 

“I don’t think that,” she says, gaze intent. “There are lots of things I’ve never had the opportunity to do. I’d like to do them with you.” Fingertips lightly trace the crease of Serena’s hip. “All I want is to make you feel good.”

She’s so earnest, so genuine, Serena feels a lump form in her throat. 

“How can a girl say no to that?” she husks, rewarded with one of Bernie’s rare, brilliant smiles. 

Pushing up to her knees, Bernie leans in to kiss her deeply, groaning when Serena tugs a bit at the curls twined around her fingers. 

“I’ll be right back,” Bernie whispers against Serena’s mouth. Swinging her long legs out of bed, she rises, grabs something from her duffel bag.

Serena’s eyes linger as she disappears into the ensuite, anticipation fluttering in her chest, her mind spinning out endless scenarios for what Bernie has planned. 

She putters a bit, setting aside the tray and glass of wine, fluffing the pillows, straightening rumpled covers. It doesn't dissipate her excited, nervous energy. 

Settling herself back on the bed, Serena watches the closed door, fingers plucking a bit at the hollow of her throat. Images continue reeling across her mind's eye, and she hardly realizes her hand is moving until she strokes through the growing wetness between her thighs. 

Her eyes flutter shut, head falling back with a sigh as her fingers dip and tease. 

“Getting started without me?”

Serena blinks a bit. “Sorry,” she breathes, a shudder rolling through her as her fingertip ghosts across her clit. She’d be embarrassed, if Bernie weren’t looking at her like she wanted to eat her alive. 

“Don’t be,” Bernie says, teeth catching at her bottom lip. 

Serena studies Bernie through half lidded eyes as she crosses the room. She found early on that Bernie doesn’t have any reservationsabout her body, aside from some sensitivity about her scars. That confidence is on display now, and Serena’s eyes follow a well-loved path down Bernie’s body, lingering on her lovely breasts, the dusky nipples puckering in the relative chill of the room.

Except now she’s wearing what looks like briefs slung low on her narrow hips, dark navy fabric that reminds Serena a bit of her trauma scrubs in boyshort style. The cut emphasizes the lines of Bernie’s body, makes her look even longer than usual. It certainly doesn’t hurt that they cup her arse perfectly.

Then she notices the ring at the crux of Bernie’s thighs and a bolt of arousal thrums through her. 

Bernie sits on the edge of the bed, near Serena’s hip, smirking a bit at the intense perusal. “All right?”

“Oh, yes. I just…” Serena huffs out a laugh, rolling her eyes at herself. “It’s not quite what I expected. I’ve only seen the rigs with all the straps and buckles.” 

Bernie chuckles, smoothing the palm of her hand along the curve of Serena’s thigh. 

“You’re not the only one who did some research,” she says with a wink. “This came highly recommended. Said it was more comfortable, and it gives better stability. Better control.” 

“Control is, uh, good.” Serena’s tongue flicks out to wet her suddenly dry lips, thrilling a bit at the way Bernie’s eyes track the motion. “Aren’t you missing something, though?” She raises an eyebrow and Bernie chuckles. 

“Right you are.” She leans over to dig in her bag for a moment. Serena sits up, trailing a hand up the bumps of Bernie’s spine, watches as she places a small bottle on the nightstand and holds up the item in question. 

They haven’t really talked about this aspect in detail, but Serena can already tell that Bernie’s chosen well. It’s a pleasant sort of sea green color, not too realistic, with a defined curve, and thick enough that Serena can feel herself clenching a bit at the thought. 

She reaches down, runs her fingers over the material, matte and smooth and a little cool. Reaching the wide base, she cocks her head, brow furrowed. 

“What’s this?” She expected it to be flat, instead the surface undulates, raised sections cast in the same soft silicone.

“It, ah, it’s supposed to make it more comfortable for the wearer,” Bernie says, “As well giving some more...friction.” 

Serena grins at that, presses her lips to a constellation of freckles on Bernie’s shoulder. “Mmmm, hopefully the reviews are accurate.”

A faint blush pinks the apples of Bernie’s cheeks. 

“They, um, certainly are.” At Serena’s inquisitive look, she shrugs a bit. “I figured I should test it out before we tried it together.”

Serena sucks in a sharp breath, overcome with a startlingly vivid image of Bernie stretched out on her bed, dressed just as she is now, her hand tugging and stroking the toy attached to her, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her skin as she pleasures herself. 

She groans into Bernie’s shoulder, clenching her thighs against the throbbing that’s blossomed there, drags her lips slowly up along Bernie’s neck. 

“I need you to fuck me, Ms Wolfe,” she whispers hotly into Bernie’s ear, catching the lobe between her teeth. “_Now_.”

Bernie looks back sharply, eyes wide and near black, leans in to catch Serena in a fierce kiss that leaves them both a little breathless. She stands, and Serena shifts over on the mattress, watching as Bernie turns away, fumbling for a few long moments. 

When she turns back, she doesn’t quite meet Serena’s eyes, as if she’s expecting judgement or laughter. Serena can only look at the toy jutting proudly from her hips, the briefs making it look surprisingly natural, a sort of uncanny valley that intensifies everything. 

“I know, it’s a bit ridiculous…” Bernie’s hands flutter a bit at her side, gesturing vaguely. 

Serena’s eyes go wide. 

“Oh no, darling,” she says fervently, and Bernie finally meets her eyes. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

Catching Bernie’s hand, Serena tugs her down onto the bed, maneuvering her back against the pillows. Serena drapes herself across Bernie’s side, tangling their legs, and kisses her. She keeps things slow and sweet, tongue sweeping, feels Bernie relax against her in increments, long fingers pressing into her shoulders. 

She slides a hand up, tracing over the bumps of Bernie’s ribs, covers a soft, perfect breast. Palm chafing the nipple, she tugs Bernie’s bottom lip between her teeth, releases it with a soft pop. She lets her hand drift lower again, pauses on the gentle swell beneath Bernie’s navel. 

“May I?” 

Bernie nods, hands gliding up and down the muscles of Serena’s back. 

The fabric of the harness is soft and smooth, and moulds to Bernie like a second skin. Serena dips lower, presses her fingers teasingly against the heat and damp she finds, drags them back up along the cool silky silicone. Curling her fingers around the shaft, she strokes it experimentally, hears Bernie grunt, her hips jerking a little. 

“So, how should we do this?” Serena asks, hand still moving. Bernie reaches up to cup her cheek, and Serena nuzzles a bit into her palm. 

“I’d like to watch you.” Bernie’s voice is gruff and low, thick with restrained desire. She brushes her thumb lightly across Serena’s bottom lip, sucking in a slow breath when Serena flicks her tongue against it.

Moving away reluctantly, Serena snags the bottle from the nightstand, shifts a bit lower on the bed. She can feel Bernie’s dark eyes following every movement as she pops open the top, drizzles the slippery liquid carefully over the toy. 

Rising to her knees, she swings a leg across Bernie, hovers above her, and Bernie’s hands drop to her hips, gripping firmly. One hand splayed against Bernie’s ribs for balance, Serena reaches down, shifts the shaft into position, and oh so slowly sinks down onto it. 

Her eyes flutter shut, head falling back as she adjusts to the fullness, the delicious stretch. When she opens them again, she finds Bernie looking up at her with such wonder it makes her chest tight. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” she says, thumbs brushing soft circles against Serena’s hip bones. “How does it feel?”

“Mmmm, wonderful,” Serena sighs. She rolls her hips experimentally, and they both groan. 

They find a rhythm together, slow and deep, as they each adjust to the new sensations. Serena wants to savor this, to make it last, but it’s too good, her whole body alight. 

It’s not long before she’s moving faster, rising and falling, Bernie’s hips snapping up to meet her. 

Nimble fingers circle her aching nipples, pinching and tugging just on the right side of pain, a whine slipping from Serena’s throat, and she grinds down harder. 

With a growl, Bernie surges upward, wrapping an arm around Serena’s waist and pulling her that much more firmly into her lap. The change in angle has Serena cursing, clutching at Bernie’s shoulders. Their breasts press tight together, skin slipping and sticking, and the only thing that matters is chasing this feeling.

Bernie manages to worm a hand between their bodies, her thumb pressing hard against Serena’s clit, and she sobs, eyes squeezed shut, every muscle tense and trembling. 

“Serena.” There a snap of command in Bernie’s voice that makes her mind go a little fuzzy. “Serena, look at me.”

Somehow she forces her eyes open, blinking them into focus. Bernie’s so close, watching her avidly, the heat of her gaze almost palpable, a tether between them. Her thumb circles in time with her thrusts; once, twice, and Serena falls over the edge with a cry. 

It seems to go on forever, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her, shuddering and jerking. She barely registers the frantic movement of Bernies hips, the way she stills, muffing a groan in the curve of Serena’s neck. 

They collapse back on the bed, tangled up and panting. Serena winces a bit as Bernie slips free, leaving her feeling empty. She feels Bernie shift and squirm, hears the thud as she drops the harness and toy over the edge of the bed. 

They lay like that for a long time, breathing together, sweat cooling on their skin. 

“That settles it,” Serena manages eventually, listening to the steady beat of Bernie’s heart beneath her cheek. “We’re never going back to Holby.”

Bernie chuckles, pressing a kiss to the crown of Serena’s head. “Works for me.” She settles them a little closer, one hand tracing lazily along Serena’s spine. 

Serena knows she should move — the sun is only just setting, warm golden light spilling across the end of the bed — but in this moment it seems impossible. Eyelids drooping, she feels Bernie tugging at the duvet, settling it around them as Serena surrenders to sleep

…

The first thing Serena notices when she wakes is that she’s alone. It’s not entirely a surprise; the sun is already up and Bernie is the only person Serena’s ever met who’s regularly up earlier than she is. 

She rolls onto her back, stretches languidly, her muscles sore in the best possible way. They’d pulled together a light meal after they woke up the night before, ate together in front of a roaring fire, atop a tartan throw Bernie inherited along with the cottage. When they were done eating, Serena pushed Bernie down on the throw and had her dessert, devouring Bernie again and again, until she weakly pushed Serena away. 

Serena grins to herself, feeling deservedly smug about it all. 

A slight chill in the air raises a flush of goosebumps on her skin as she abandons the warm cocoon of the bed. She grabs a soft, worn blanket and wraps it around her naked body, padding softly downstairs into the main room of the cottage. 

She finds Bernie curled up in an oversized chair, set in front of one of the large windows at the back of the room, a steaming cup of what she assumes is coffee in her hand. Out the window Serena can see that it’s started to snow, a light coating already clinging to the ground and branches. 

Bernie smiles up as Serena reaches her side, holds her mug out to the side in clear invitation. Serena arches an eyebrow skeptically, then relents with a shrug. She settles gingerly on Bernie’s lap, shifting a little closer when Bernie’s arm wraps snugly around her waist.

“I was thinking we should walk into town later, pick up something for tea,” Bernie says, dropping a kiss on Serena’s blanket covered shoulder.

Serena nods and plucks the mug from Bernie's hand, humming happily as she takes a sip of the strong, hot brew. They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, just breathing together.

“You never told me how you got this place.” 

“Didn’t I?” Bernie looks up at her, brow furrowed. Shrugs, then smiles softly. “I inherited it, from my favorite aunt, Penelope,” she says, shifting Serena a touch in her lap. “She never married, had no children. In fact, she lived with a friend for almost as long as I knew her. Clara. I guess they bought the cottage together. I used to spend as much time as I could up here, especially when my parents were driving me spare. Auntie P and Clara just seemed to understand me so much better.” She pauses, frowning at the look on Serena’s face. “What?”

“Bernie. Your spinster aunt bought a secluded cottage with her live-in ‘friend’. A _one bedroom_ cottage.” 

Bernie’s eyes go wide in sudden comprehension.

“Oh my god!”

She looks so stunned, Serena can’t help but laugh, burying her face in Bernie’s shoulder.

“It never occured to me,” Bernie says, bewildered, and it just makes Serena laugh harder. “My parents always said they were friends and I, I just never questioned it.”

Serena takes Bernie’s hand and tangles their fingers together. “No wonder she was your favorite.” 

“I suppose not,” Bernie chuckles. “Anyway, when Auntie P died, she left the cottage to me. Marcus was always after me to sell it. Said it was too small, too far away.” There’s a note of bitterness in her voice that Serena recognizes; the long suppressed wounds of an unhappy marriage. 

Serena rubs her thumb against Bernie’s knuckles, giving her a soft smile.

“I’m very glad you didn’t.” The clouds clear from Bernie’s eyes, and she kisses Serena softly, tasting of gratitude. They shift a bit, then settle, passing the dwindling mug of coffee back and forth between them.

“Did your aunt put in the garden?” Serena asks.

“No, that was Charlotte and I.” Bernie looks offended at Serena’s obvious surprise. “I’ll have you know that I’m a dab hand with a trowel, thank you very much.” A different kind of wistfulness creeps into her expression. “Lottie went through a bit of a horticulture phase. We spent the summer digging the whole thing up and replanting. It was one of the few things we did just the two of us.”

Serena’s heart aches at the sorrow in Bernie’s voice. She knows how hard the estrangement from her children has been on Bernie, wishes she could make that pain magically disappear. She presses her lips to Bernie’s temple, tries to give comfort through touch when she knows words are useless.

Eventually Bernie lifts her head, gives Serena a smile that says _everything is okay_, and they both ignore the lingering wetness in her eyes. She clears her throat a bit.

“We should come back in early summer, when everything is blooming. It’s beautiful.”

“I’d like that,” Serena says with a smile. “Provided you haven’t gone off me by then.”

She means it as a joke, a bit of self-deprecation. The moment the words leave her mouth, she realizes her mistake, feels Bernie go tense beneath her. 

A hand cups her chin, turns her to meet Bernie’s suddenly serious gaze.

“Serena, I’m not going to ‘go off’ you. You are-” She hesitates, eyes flicking away, then seems to make some kind of decision. Taking a deep breath, she looks back to Serena, her expression open and vulnerable. “I love you, Serena. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Serena’s heart leaps into her throat, leaves her breathless. 

She’s forgiven Bernie for Kiev, understands why she felt the need to run, but the bruises are still there, deep beneath the skin. There’s a part of her that’s been holding back, afraid that she’ll push too far, ask too much. Afraid that if she scares Bernie away again she’ll lose her forever. She’s held tight to her feelings, determined to appreciate anything Bernie is willing to give her.

Just like that, those bruises fade away, Bernie’s words breaking down the tenuous wall Serena’s built around her heart. Tears fill her eyes, a wild kind of joy flooding through her.

“Oh, darling. I love you too,” she says, voice wet. “So, so much.”

Relief flashes in Bernie’s eyes, and then they’re kissing like it’s the first time all over again. In a way, it is. The rest of the world fades away. All that’s left is the two of them and this perfect moment.

They’re both grinning when they part, and Serena can’t help but kiss the smile from Bernie’s beautiful face. The low embers of desire always between them flare to life, their kisses turning fierce and searching. Serena gasps as Bernie’s hand works its way beneath the blanket, finds warm, bare skin underneath.

“I thought, _ah_, you wanted to go to town,” Serena manages, shuddering as Bernie nips at the tendon of her neck.

“Later,” Bernie murmurs. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”


End file.
